


Surrogate Care

by allie_quinn



Series: The SoliMiller Collection [4]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anon Prompt, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allie_quinn/pseuds/allie_quinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Master, please, she's gonna die and I don't know what to do...."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrogate Care

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt: "David showing up at Miller's doorstep with a tiny husky puppy like 'help what do I do it's tiny and the mother won't let it nurse I can't let it die what do I do??' and Miller sighs because damn this kid and his huge ass heart." --Anonymous

Miller's dogs were always a raucous bunch, largely because he'd not had the patience to train them. Some musher had sold the pack to him as a means to get around, and cars didn't have brains to go back home when the blonde himself was too drunk to drive. 

Now that Dave was around, however, he had an Iditarod runner to help him out with the unruly mutts; Dave was something of a Sled Dog Whisperer. He called them by name, just as he did his own dogs, and praised them for their victories. 

Never did he dish out punishment, or scold them when they didn't listen.

 

_When they lay in bed that long-ago night, that first time, Miller had wondered aloud what Solid saw in a bunch of yodeling dustbunnies. After a correction of his name--please call me "Dave," yeah?--the younger explained that dogs were everything he loved in the world: aggressive, loyal, dependable, brave, and fun. A scoff and a light shove were all Miller returned, not wanting to admit how charming he'd found the exchange._

 

Now, the dogs were outside screaming bloody murder, and Miller approached the door with great caution. He would have peeked through the peephole, or the side window, if there hadn't been a series of loud  _BANGS_ beforehand.

 _"MASTER MILLER, LET ME IN,"_ came the muffled, but unmistakeable, Dave from the other side.  _"PLEASE, IT'S AN EMERGENCY."_

Panic set in for the moment it took to open the door, afraid the kid was hurt or being chased or--

The soldier barreled inside the house, dogs attached to the sled outside obediently sitting and waiting for their musher; Miller shut the door against the force of the wind with a sigh.

"Just gonna leave your dogs out there to--"

"Master, please, she's gonna die and I don't know what to do."

It was only then that Miller noticed the tiny bundle in Dave's arm, a blue towel that may or may not have been moving. The younger gingerly unravelled the towel, revealing a sled dog pup that couldn't have been born but a week ago at most. 

"Dave, what in the hell," Miller asked, more in awe than anything as he bent slightly to touch the pup with the tip of his finger, "What's wrong with her?"

When he looked up from the pup, he could swear he saw mist in Dave's eyes, along with obvious panic and sadness. 

"She was fine yesterday," he lamented, "but now the other pups are bullying her and she can't eat. She's gonna die, and it will be my fault!"

 

_Time seemed to come to a standstill, as Miller remembered the dying animals often brought back to Mother Base by a phantom with a bleeding heart. Animals that Kaz shrugged off as "lost paychecks," and allowed the Base vets to euthanize, because it was better to end their suffering there than try to milk any more money out of that NGO. It made him sad, of course, that there was such loss of life; but there were men to train and missions to execute, and the lives of goats and hedgehogs didn't play into his plans._

 

Dave's brokenhearted gaze stirred something in the old Hell Master, though, and he opted to take action.

"I think I have some leftover formula from when one of mine had her pups, hang tight. Make sure you're rubbing the towel on her to keep her warm."

"Yes, sir," came the automatic response, and Miller couldn't help but smile. Just like his dogs, loyal and obedient.

After rifling through bathroom and kitchen cabinets, the puppy formula was discovered in the bottom of the pantry, next to some--miraculously--clean puppy-sized bottles. Miller rushed to the sink, mixing the two parts water and one part powder the way the tin instructed; and returned to the rapidly-panicking Dave.

"Her breathing is so shallow," he murmured, showing a weakness Miller would never have tolerated in FOXHOUND. "Master, she's gonna--"

Miller scooped the pup into his bionic hand, careful not to pinch the fabric or her fur in the joints of his fingers, and presented her with the bottle. "You gotta eat for me," he encouraged, lowly, "or Dave here will take your crown for 'Loudest Whiner'."

As if on cue, the small creature took the end of the bottle and fed, slowly at first, then greedily. Her tiny chirps and growls were the only noise in the tense silence, until Dave laughed an all-too-familiar barking laugh. 

"She's--you--I can't believe this, she--"

Miller's eyes, even behind the aviators, met Dave's own; and he couldn't help but smile at this big dumb kid. Once a soldier, cold and calculating, now a boy--no, a man--with a dog who might just get better. The warmth in the blonde's chest was strange, but not unwelcome, as he returned Dave's smile. 

"Every couple hours, now, Dave," he said softly, removing the bottle and gingerly cleaning the dribbling formula from the tiny muzzle. "You up for it?"

"Are you," the brunet countered with an arched eyebrow. "I gotta stay here for the night, storm's too bad. You don't mind, do you?"

The way he licked his lips did not go unnoticed. 

 

"Nah," Miller shrugged, tucking the puppy under his arm and heading for the bedroom. "Just promise you won't roll over and squish her in the middle of the night."

 


End file.
